Snippets from the Shadows
by Nimbus Llewelyn
Summary: A drabble series set in the Wizard in the Shadows verse, filled with excerpts from all over the timeline in the ficverse. Don't read certain chapters I'll warn if it spoils if you don't want to risk spoilers for the main series. None of this is mine save the plot idea and my OC's.
1. Chapter 1: Heraldry

**Snippets from the Shadows**

**A/N : A drabble series for excerpts from the Wizard in the Shadows verse. **

**A symbol**

**If anyone wants to do fanart for this or any other part of the series, feel free. All I request is that you credit your source of inspiration and PM me a link. Ginny's title is borrowed from the Tortall books by Tamora Pierce (Ginny and Alanna have more than a few similarities).**

**This drabble is a future fic set after 'From Out of the Shadows', so don't read if you don't want even the slightest hint of what's going to happen (not that there is very much). **

**Spoiler: The Pendragon part? Yeah, Harry's descended from Arthur (Guinevere is sometimes mentioned as having red hair/auburn hair and being the most beautiful woman in the country/world, and it was too good to miss, making her Maedhros' daughter). So he has a ridiculous number of heroes in his ancestry. So do Aragorn and Arwen, and their son Eldarion even more so, and they have **_**angel**_** in their ancestry, along with almost every important elf in the history of Middle Earth. Even Harry doesn't have that.**

Harry looked around helplessly, then yelped as his attempts at apparition failed due to cunning wards. He was trapped, surrounded and utterly helpless to prevent his inevitable and grisly fate.

"Harry! There you are, the Master Herald's been looking for you everywhere," Aragorn said, wearing a disgustingly cheery smile.

Harry gave him an evil look, then said petulantly, folding his arms, "Shan't."

"Ginny insists. She also said that she was going to start telling, ahem,_ bedtime_ stories if you didn't," Aragorn said. Harry wilted, resistance gone.

"Can't you cover for me?" Harry asked hopelessly.

"No. If I had to go through this, so do you. I will not suffer alone," Aragorn said firmly, dragging Harry behind him.

"Bastard," Harry muttered.

"I'm perfectly legitimate."

"Wanker."

"Happily married."

Harry promptly leered slightly, then looked thoughtful.

He eventually went for the thoroughly inaccurate "Boy."

"As Arwen can confirm, I am a full grown man," Aragorn said calmly, smirking at Harry's nauseated expression.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

Harry just pouted as he was dragged by the arms.

The Master Herald looked up as Aragorn dragged Harry in. The Master Herald, Harry thought sourly, was like some unholy lovechild of Professor Binns and Madame Pince, with a little Trelawney to mix things up. Ginny was infinitely preferable to look at (so he did), and holding a book over her noticeably, if not enormously, pregnant stomach. She grinned as she saw the tableau of Harry pouting and being dragged in, while Aragorn wore a serene expression as if everything was perfectly normal. Harry winked at her and sat next to her, kissing her on the cheek.

"Ah, Lord Potter," the Herald said in his musty voice. "Your lovely wife was just telling me that you are descended from two known noble houses in your own world."

Harry nodded. Oh well, might as well get it over with. "The House of Peverell and the House of Gryffindor."

"What are their emblems?"

"No one's entirely sure of the Peverell emblem, or at least the original one. The male line died out centuries ago. I think it's this, however, or at least, this is the one associated with the name," Harry said, duplicating a piece of parchment and carefully drawing the symbol of the deathly hallows.

"The legend goes that three brothers cheated Death himself of their lives by using their magic to cross a river that was impossible to cross, and claimed many lives in doing so. Death himself appeared to them, and though he was angry, he hid it and offered them gifts. The first brother, Antioch Peverell, being an arrogant and violent man, asked for an unbeatable wand. Death crafted a wand from a nearby elder tree, and used for the core the hair of a creature called a thestral, a creature that can only be seen by those who have seen someone die. The second brother, Cadmus Peverell, wished to humiliate Death further, and requested a tool to bring back the dead. Death reached down and picked up a stone from the riverbank. He told the brother to turn it three times and it would call whoever he wished back from the grave," Harry said, unconsciously slipping into a mesmeric tone of voice, and even the Master Herald could not disguise his interest.

"The third brother, Ignotus Peverell, my ancestor, was a wiser and humbler man. Suspecting Death's motives, he asked for Death's own cloak of invisibility. Death was reluctant, but fulfilled this request, handing over the cloak. The three brothers then parted ways. Antioch went to find another wizard who he had been feuding with, and killed him in a duel. Afterwards, he went to an inn and bragged of his invincible wand."

Harry paused, looked around, then choosing his words carefully, he said, "Here the story delves into ancient and complex wand lore. Wands chose their bearers, the wand choses the wizard. And they are the most compatible wands. But if a wizard or witch beats another in combat, any form, and takes their opponents wand, it will work for them almost as well. If a wand is taken without its owner being defeated, it will be harder to use magic with it. So Antioch bragged of his invincible wand and that night another wizard stole his wand while he was asleep, and cut his throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own. Cadmus, the second brother, went home and used the stone to raise the woman he loved and who had been promised to him in marriage from the dead. At first he was happy, but raising the dead is a risky business. Soon she wearied of this world, for she did not belong here, and the second brother killed himself, so as truly to be with her. And so Death took the second brother for his own," Harry said, then took a deep breath.

"Finally, while Death searched high and low for the third brother, Ignotus, he did not find him, for even he could not see through his own cloak of invisibility. Ignotus lived a long life and a happy one, eventually passing the cloak onto his son, and meeting with Death as a friend and an equal," Harry said, finishing the story. "Whether the part with Death is true, and since I've met Namo and he doesn't seem like a jerk, I doubt it but wouldn't rule it out, the artefacts survive." Here, Ginny, who had never heard of the Hallows aside from the bedtime story, Aragorn and the Master Herald, all leaned in close.

"It is said that one who wields all three is Master of Death. I am the only person in recorded history who is known to," Harry said quietly.

"Do you have them?" Ginny asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. "I still have the cloak. It was my father's and far too useful to give up, because it's the only invisibility cloak immune to spells and to degeneration with age that I know of. The Elder Wand is hidden, and if I am never defeated, or at least never defeated and never have the chance to be the first to return the favour, then hopefully it's power will die with me. That and has left a legendary trail of death and destruction throughout history, and it's power is unquestionable," Harry said, putting his Phoenix and Holly wand on the desk before him and saying, "This wand, my own, was shattered by a wayward blasting curse. The finest wandmaker of our time said it was irreparable. I took the Elder Wand from Voldemort in battle, as I was its true master through a long and complex series of events, and used it to repair this one with a single spell."

"And the Resurrection Stone?" Aragorn asked.

"I used it once, to see my parents, Remus and Sirius, who I thought was dead before I went to die against Voldemort. I'm guessing since Sirius was here, it was a copy of his mind with memories until he fell through the Veil," Harry said, and shrugged. "Anyway, I dropped it in the Forbidden Forest, where it will stay," he finished, fixing Ginny with a particular stare, as she looked down. He reached across and held her hand gently.

"I'm sorry Ginny, but Fred's happy where he is, and I doubt he'd appreciate being ripped out of Heaven. That never goes well," Harry said, drawing her into a hug.

Aragorn looked away. He couldn't deny that he too was tempted. The power to see his mother again, the father he had barely known, all the comrades and friends he had lost to age, disease and battle. And for Ginny who had lost a brother recently, the pain not having yet dulled to a mere ache, that temptation was even greater.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" the Herald said, puzzled.

"Because people would demand that he use his powers to call up their dead relatives, and try and steal the Hallows. With a title like the Master of Death, it is likely that rumours would spread that he could perform true resurrection," Aragorn said, and Harry nodded.

"People were following me around enough what with me being 'the Chosen One' and killer of Voldemort," Harry looked at Ginny and smiled slightly, "Honestly, I was already getting twenty marriage proposals and death threats a day, sometimes both at once, and innumerable people wanting to meet me, control me, use me for one thing or another…"

Aragorn nodded. "So you ran."

"Yeah. Not my brightest idea, but," he paused to kiss Ginny, who muttered dryly, 'you got that right', "I think it worked out pretty well in the end."

"And the Gryffindor side of the family, Lord Potter?" the Herald interrupted rudely, and Harry had to restrain himself with difficulty from cursing the man.

"The Gryffindor symbol is rampant Lion, and the family can be traced back to one of the founders of Hogwarts, the chief magical school in Western Europe, around a thousand years ago. He left behind a sword, called the Sword of Gryffindor, which it turns out was forged by Feanor, before it fell between the worlds and the Goblins - a different breed by far from the one's here. They aren't so much evil as a little obsessive over money and suspicious of wizards, though they have reason enough for that – put the finishing enchantments on the blade. It's the next best thing to indestructible, and can destroy almost any known dark magic. Anyway, Gryffindor's house, those who carried on his legacy in spirit, were chosen for their bravery and daring. The decisions from the process weren't necessarily always right, but the vast majority of them were. He was the foremost duelist of his time, and an extremely powerful wizard, giving his own hat a mind of its own to make decisions of who should go in which house at Hogwarts. It has retained its mind, such as it is, for the last thousand years, showing how powerful the enchantments were. I believe it is my father that is descended from him," Harry said calmly.

"There is also a third house, the house of Pendragon. Long story short, it was the house of a legendary king in my world, King Arthur, who was of a similar stature to Elendil. Even the muggles know a lot about him, even down to the fact that Merlin was his adviser, but they think it's a myth. His symbol was a red dragon," Harry added

Then he hesitated. "There is potentially one other house… the house of Feanor. Though I think you can understand why I might not be particularly interested in highlighting that connection," Harry said quietly.

"The heraldry of the First Age is mostly lost to us. Maybe Master Elrond could tell you, but I think it's better that the banner of the Kinslayer remains as dead as the rest of him," the Herald said, and Harry and Ginny nodded their agreement.

"So, my Lord and Lady, what is to be your crest? And your motto?" He said.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, then Harry said, "A rampant lion has to be in there…"

"How about a rampant lion, a dragon and a phoenix? To symbolise life and rebirth, rising from the flames," Ginny suggested, one hand drifting to her stomach, the other to Harry's hand.

The Herald's brow furrowed, as did Aragorn's, and in answer Ginny opened the book she had been holding, called 'A Modern Wizard's Guide to Heraldry'.

"Draco gave it to us for a wedding present. I'm not sure whether he meant it as a joke or not, but it's fairly useful," she said for Harry's benefit, finding the page for a phoenix. She slid it across and Aragorn softly read aloud.

"'_The phoenix is a large swan-sized scarlet bird with red and gold plumage, along with a golden beak and talons, black eyes, and a tail as long as a peacock's. Its scarlet feathers glow faintly in darkness, while its golden tail feathers are hot to the touch. Phoenixes are known for nesting on mountain peaks. They are gentle herbivores and are not known for fighting. As phoenixes approach their burning day they resemble a half-plucked turkey. Also, their eyes become dull, their feathers start to fall out, and it begins to make gagging noises. Then the bird suddenly bursts into flames only to rise from the ashes shortly after. In a number of days, they grow back to full size. Hence, phoenixes are immortal_,'" Aragorn read in wonderment. "I have heard of these before, or something similar, in my travels in the South and the East. In Khand, I remember tales of the Fire Bird, a legendary creature with a pure song, that cannot stand evil."

"My Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had one as… a familiar, more than a pet, one of two known to be domesticated. He was called Fawkes, and he was beautiful." Harry chuckled, "The first time I ever saw him he caught fire. I was horrified, and I thought I'd killed him by accident. They're very intelligent creatures, and they will fight if they have to. Ginny and I owe our lives to Fawkes," Harry said, squeezing Ginny's hand, prompting Ginny to squeeze back.

"He fought and blinded the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, and brought me the Sword of Gryffindor. Of course, I still had to kill the damn thing, which wasn't easy since it was sixty feet long and I was twelve years old. Fawkes also healed my wound from the Basilisk fang, since the poison would normally have killed me. After my headmaster died, he sang a lament… words cannot describe how painful and beautiful it was, and left. He has not been seen since," Harry finished.

"So, a phoenix and rampant lion. Anything else?"

"They can go either side of the symbol of the Hallows. It's the closest to a Peverell crest that we have," Harry said, looking to Ginny, who nodded.

"And a motto?"

Ginny immediately said, "Courage is immortal."

Harry grinned and nodded, then blinked as Ginny drew her wand and tapped the parchment on which he had drawn the sign of the Hallows. Quickly a crest formed, a scarlet red shield with gold edging, on which was superimposed the Hallows symbol in gold and on the left side, a rampant lion, on the right, a red dragon. And set above, wings triumphantly extended as if in flight, a phoenix. Beneath was flowing scroll, on which the words, 'Courage Is Immortal', were written in flowing script. Afterwards, Ginny duplicated it, put a series of anti-damage charms on both and tucked the copy away.

The Herald's eyes bulged at the casual magic, then he inspected the picture. "Oh, this is very nice," he murmured, then looked up at Ginny and bowed formally. "You have a most deft touch, Mrs Potter."

"How come he's nice to you?" Harry muttered as the Herald wandered away to copy the work and record it.

"Because I turn up to these things instead of doing my best to avoid them. And I'm prettier than you are," Ginny replied, kissing him soundly.

"Good points, both of them," Harry said, and kissed her back. As the passion escalated, Aragorn coughed pointedly.

"I suggest that you have sex elsewhere. Among other things, it's musty in here and if the Master Herald comes back, he may have a heart attack," Aragorn said, getting up to leave. Harry nodded, slightly abashed as Ginny winked at Aragorn, and Harry helped Ginny stand. As an afterthought, Harry tapped his shirt, which currently bore the Gryffindor badge, changing it to match the new crest. Ginny eyed it, then changed her own shirt. The only difference was hers had a lioness instead.

Years later, after an ill-fated kidnap attempt on the Potter children, no one was particularly surprised when Ginny became known as the Lioness, and Harry the Lion. And in Khand and Harad, and eventually southern Gondor, a saying was born. 'If you wish for certain trouble, anger the lion. If you wish for certain death, anger the lioness.


	2. Chapter 2: Clubbing

**Clubbing**

**A little vignette set between 'The Wizard in the Shadows' and 'From Out of the Shadows'. I own nothing you recognise.**

"So," Maglor said carefully, surveying the dance floor of the club that Harry called 'The Ministry of Sound'. "This pit of debauchery, full of gyrating, lithe and lustful bodies is what passes for a dance in this world and time."

"You disapprove?" Harry asked.

"Eru, no! I just wish they'd had them in my time!" Maglor said, grinning cheerfully as he took the opportunity to blatantly eye up a petite blonde with hazel green eyes, who grinned back and added a little seductive sway to her hips as she passed, walking over to a tall blue eyed brunette. Harry thought both looked vaguely familiar, then dismissed the thought in favour of what Maglor had just said.

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. You thought all elves were uptight and never had sex before marriage?" Maglor asked.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Well, I can't speak for the Eldar of Middle Earth, but in Valinor young elves were expected to learn how to court an elf of their choice and be good at sex before they met their intended, with the expectation that nothing would come of it. After all, it would be most uncomfortable for both parties if the first time was on the Wedding Night," Maglor said.

"Lots of no strings attached sex with attractive and willing elf women," Harry said musingly. "You know, I think I'm beginning to get a better idea of why Ar-Pharazon invaded."

Maglor smirked. "I never thought of that. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to gyrate with attractive young women."

Harry grinned back, and swept his right arm out in presentation, "Gyrate away. By the way, do elves get sexually transmitted diseases?"

"No. We can also choose if we want to get our intended pregnant or not," Maglor said with a smirk as he wandered onto the dancefloor.

Harry stared after him. "Lucky bastard," he muttered, then went over to the bar and Ginny, whose tight shirt and tighter shorts left refreshingly little to the imagination. Mrs Weasley, Harry thought, would have had a stroke. So would Ron. Thankfully, neither was here.

"So, how's Maglor taking to clubbing?" Ginny asked.

"Like a duck to water," Harry said, as several interested women – and men – clustered around Maglor. "Honestly, I half expect him to try and start an orgy on the dance floor."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Apparently in Valinor it was common for young elves to hone their talents before marriage," Harry said. "It sort of puts a new perspective on why all the elves and Gandalf seem so desperate to get back," he added thoughtfully. "In fairness, unless Elrond's shagging Glorfindel, he hasn't had any action in about five hundred years, so I can see why."

Ginny looked dreamy. "I like that image," she said happily.

"Not half as much as I like the one with you and Luna," Harry replied with a grin.

"Ouch," she said, smiling.

"You like it that way," Harry murmured, kissing her and glaring at a hopeful looking man.

When he looked back at the dance floor, an attractive, tanned and strangely familiar dark haired young woman in tight leather trousers was monopolising Maglor. Harry could practically smell the mutual interest as the two left together. As Maglor passed, Harry gave him a thumbs up, which Maglor responded to with a wink. Ginny noticed Harry give Maglor the thumbs and asked, "What was that about?"

"Maglor's just left with a gorgeous young woman who's almost as beautiful as you are," Harry said. "Come on. Let's take a leaf out of his book and find somewhere more comfortable."

The next morning, Harry walked downstairs into the Burrow's kitchen and was confronted with the sight of a thoughtful Maglor who was sipping a coffee.

"How was your evening?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Interesting," Maglor.

"Did you even get the girls name?"

"A surname even," Maglor said, sipping his coffee. "Faith Lehane, she called herself. When I asked where she was from, she said she was just dropping by and she didn't know that elves were so good in bed," here Maglor looked smug. "Somehow she knew what I was, and hse was definitely stronger than any mortal. Also, she mentioned you."

"Me?" Harry said, suddenly very puzzled.

"She said someone called B liked your style, and she wanted me to give you this," he said, sliding a wooden stake across the table. There was a note attached. It said: 'There are more worlds than you can possibly imagine, hot stuff.'

Harry blinked and pocketed the stake, then shook his head. "Why is my life so phenomenally weird?" he asked.

Maglor shrugged, and carried on looking smug and drinking his coffee.


	3. Chapter 3: Therapy

**Therapy**

**This is a short snippet set in between The Wizard in the Shadows and From Out of the Shadows. I figured that this is what would happen if someone gave Maglor the resurrection stone. I might do other members of the Feanorion family as well.**

**There is a poll on my profile page about Emrys and Eirian. Please answer it.**

Ginny frowned as she heard a long stream of obscenities of in Quenya and Sindarin from the living room, then an unfamiliar elven voice irritably replying. Harry was sitting in the kitchen, reading a book, with ear plugs in his ears, as was Legolas, who was also listening and carefully writing words down on some convenient paper. She yanked one out and yelled, "WHAT'S HAPPENING?"

Harry passed her a sheet of paper and took back the ear plug.

Ginny read what it said. '_I gave Maglor the Resurrection stone. He's working through his issues with Feanor.'_

She summoned a pen and wrote, '_They're having a shouting match. By the sounds of it, Maglor is winning.'_

Harry replied. '_Same difference. And Legolas is expanding his vocabulary'. _

Suddenly the screaming stopped, and Maglor said coldly in English, "Ada, it occurs to me that you are nothing more than a spoiled child. Talented, for sure, but overindulged, throwing a tantrum when things fail to go your way. Your creation of the silmarils damned Arda. Your refusal to break them and restore the trees smacked of rank selfishness."

"You dare to judge me, your ada?" a cold, arrogant voice that reminded Ginny of Lucius Malfoy said. It shared some similarities with Maglor's voice, but lacked all the warmth.

"Yes, ada I dare! I could forgive that. I could forgive your enormous ego. I could even forgive your treatment of myself. But your total disregard for my mother and my brothers, save when it suited you – do not deny it, and do not forget that the death of my youngest brother Amras was caused by your stupidity alone! - is something I could never forgive or accept. So goodbye, you narcissistic…" After that all Ginny caught a long and musical sounding series of swear words that set Legolas diligently writing again.

"Have a nice afterlife and if I ever see you in corporeal form again, I'll shove a copy of your fucking other so far up your arse you'll be spitting paper for a month," Maglor snarled.

"I regret Amras' death," Feanor said quietly. Why he was speaking English, Ginny wasn't sure, but suspected it might be the same reason that English and Common sounded exactly the same. Two words. Merlin. Meddling. "I… made a mistake."

"Oh, the mighty Feanor, spirit of fire and petulant child supreme admits that he made a mistake. This is a historic announcement. And I note you do not regret leaving my mother to cry as you stole all her children away for your own mad ambition," Maglor replied coldly.

"Morgoth killed your grandfather!" Feanor snarled. "I needed every sword hand I could lay my hands on, and you seven were the best."

"Every sword hand. You mean every weapon. You turned us all into monsters in the pursuit of mindless vengeance. No orc has ever slain so many elves as we, the sons of Feanor. You could have waited until the Valar mobilised their forces and moved against Morgoth once more. But no, as ever, the great spirit of fire takes no counsel but that of his ego. And you still do not answer about my mother," Maglor said angrily.

"Because, among other things, I get enough grief from your elder brother, Maedhros, who wanders down to harangue me every three centuries or so," Feanor said testily.

"And well he should," Maglor said. "And I note that you aren't very subtle in question dodging."

Feanor sounded irritated. "Very well. I have felt some regret for how I hurt your mother. But she refused to see reason."

There was a long pause, then Maglor asked, "… ada, do you actually _listen _to what you say? 'She refused to see reason'. That is the biggest hypocrisy I have _ever_ heard."

There was silence from Feanor.

"So, you do not actually feel guilty for anything, save possibly for Amras' death," Maglor said sadly. "Not for the lives you have destroyed, the loved ones you proved unworthy of or the destruction you have wrought. Somehow that does not surprise me. Goodbye." Feanor did not reply, and Ginny assumed that Maglor had dismissed Feanor.

Maglor wandered downstairs and sighed. "After six thousand years, he's still a twat. I really shouldn't be surprised. Thank you for letting me use the stone Harry," he said, putting it in front of Harry, who removed his ear plugs.

"Maglor, what does –" Legolas asked, an incomprehensible stream of Quenya flowing into his sentence. "mean?"

Maglor replied in swift Sindarin, and smirked as Legolas stared at him shock. Legolas blinked and asked incredulously, "where do you propose to get enough lubricant to do _that_ from?"

"George knows people," Maglor said vaguely.

"I have sudden feeling that I don't want to know," Ginny said firmly.

"You probably don't," Maglor agreed, then smiled. "You know," he said thoughtfully. "I feel a lot better now."

**Please review !**


	4. Chapter 4: The Starkest Night

**The Starkest Night**

**What can I say? **

**Two hours ago, a friend of mine prompted me and some friends to fit Tony Stark into our respective ficverses as either a one shot or… whatever. **

**The result, in my case, is pure crack (and therefore, not necessarily to be taken as canon and definitely not seriously) and a crossover with Buffy and the Avengers.**

**The interdimensional bar run by a one eyed man is a reference to 'Nights', the setting free for all fic on Twisting The Hellmouth called 'Tales From the Barman'. Emrys has visited on prior occasion in 'Tales From the Barman Part II', in chapter 84. Which, by the way, is Shadowsverse canon and will be referenced in 'From Out of the Shadows'.**

**Enjoy this little something to tide you lot over until I manage to finish the next chapter of 'From Out of the Shadows'. Never fear, I have not abandoned it, and I've written up the finale. I'm just having some trouble getting there.**

Boromir raised an eyebrow as he walked into the kitchen. He had just returned to Grimmauld Place from a rather pleasant evening of drinks with Andromeda. Unlike so many of the women back in Gondor, she was easy to talk to, and wasn't intimidated by his rank. In fact, she didn't even seem to care about it, which was rather refreshing. Touch activated portkeys, he mused, were very useful for cutting travel times.

Drunks talking earnestly to others – in this case, Maglor - over bottles of unidentifiable alcohol were not uncommon in either world. But normally those drunks didn't have a glowing circle in the middle of their chest.

"Who is this?" Boromir asked Maglor.

"I'm Tony Fucking Stark, also known as the Invincible, the Inimitable and totally Irrepressible Iron Man," the drunk replied cheerfully before Maglor could say a thing. "Nice to meet you," he continued, then examined Boromir before finishing, "Mr… tall and hairy person."

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "Is that your actual name? Any of them?"

"It would be, I was gonna to legally change it, but Pepper made me stop," Stark replied. "And people call me Iron Man when I suit up," he added, taking a swig of the strange and strong smelling liquid. As he did, he leaned back to drain the bottle. The chair leaned back with him, teetering, then falling over backwards with a loud crash. There was a pause, then Stark said thoughtfully, "You have really comfy floors, did you know that?"

"They're wood," Boromir pointed out. "Which splinters," he warned.

"Eh, had worse," Stark said with an audible shrug. Literally audible, as there was a strange scraping noise when he moved.

Boromir looked at Maglor. "Where did you find him?"

"In a bar," Maglor said with a shrug.

Boromir looked disbelieving.

"An interdimensional bar called 'Nights', run by a man with one eye," Maglor elaborated. "Emrys goes there quite often."

"Did you bring anyone else back?" Boromir asked, then sighed as there was a loud crash from upstairs.

"… Maybe," Maglor said, looking shifty.

"Tell me, friend Harry," a loud, booming and boisterous sounding voice asked, easily penetrating through the floorboards. "How does that song about the two dozen maidens go again?"

"Well, if memory serves," Harry said, clearly drunk. "It goes something like this…"

He began to sing, loudly and quite some way off key and out of tune. A moment later, the other voice joined in.

"Ginny is going to kill you all, you realise that?" Boromir asked rhetorically.

Maglor shrugged. "Legolas and the one they call 'Hawkeye' or 'Clint' went off with George Weasley to test a combination of magic and arrows in pranking, Sirius, Ron, Theodred, Eomer and Harry are getting drunk with the big, blond guy called Thor – you heard him just now," Maglor said, and sure enough, Sirius and Ron's voices could be heard among the impromptu choir. "Ginny, Lothiriel, Hermione, Eirian and a woman called Pepper who seems to be Tony's lover –"

"And a better lover I could not want," Tony mumbled from the floor. "She organises my life, runs my company like a fief and I'm pretty sure that I'm gonna ask her to be my wife." Then he giggled. "Behold, ye mighty, my awesome impromptu poetry skills. I'm a poet and I sure as hell know it."

Maglor barely missed a beat. "Thank you Tony. They went out for drinks and to chat about the foible of their menfolk and I believe that Aragorn, Faramir and Captain America are trying to calm down Doctor Banner who appears to have turned into some giant green monster that seems intent on eating all of the nachos in London."

"Why nachos?" Boromir asked, in vague trepidation.

Maglor flicked on the television.

_And breaking news, the giant green creature identified as the Hulk is making a series of demands from inside the nacho factory,_ a nervous looking reporter said.

Right on cue, a stentorian bellow of, "HULK WANT SALSA," was heard.

'_Police believe that the Hulk is suffering from what are colloquially called 'Munchies' after he and some unknown accomplice unwittingly ran across a burning marijuana farm. A blonde figure was seen leaving the scene, and on being accosted by a policeman, knocked him out, pointed a stick at him and muttered something. He then apologised, claiming he was 'an almost innocent bystander' and that he didn't 'known that the green stuff made such weird smoke'.'_

"Well," Boromir muttered. "That explains where Emrys has got to."

The screen returned to the BBC news studio. _'And in other news, Simon Cowell and Piers Morgan have been reported as missing. Whether this is in connections to sightings of two giant and virulently purple coloured birds on Hampstead Heath and the presence of a couple of suspicious men with bows and arrows near their respective homes is yet to be confirmed. There are also reports of Admiral Nelson's statue leading the four lions beneath his column in a surprisingly good rendition of the Cha-Cha Slide dance routine.' _

Footage came up on the television, and Tony said in some surprise, "Okay, for a bunch of statues, they really are quite good." He had clawed his way back into a chair. "Now, Maglor, I think that your ideas for an aphrodisiac bomb are just brilliant," he said, grabbing a previously discarded piece of paper and doodling on it, ignoring the beer stains. "I think that if you would need a high air burst and maybe get Thor or some other weather manipulator to provide favourable winds…" he began, scribbling away.

"Maglor," a beautiful woman with dark red hair wearing only a bra and panties said slightly impatiently, interrupting Tony. She had appeared completely silently. "Buffy, Faith, Darcy and I are all waiting for you."

"Sorry Tony," Maglor said. "But it is bad manners to keep one lady waiting, let alone four."

"_Four?_" Boromir asked in shock.

"Immortality," Maglor said with a smug smirk. "Has its advantages."

"Yes, but… _four_," Boromir said. The number seemed to be a sticking point.

"The more the merrier," Maglor shot back over his shoulder as he followed the woman upstairs and into a private room.

"Wow," Tony said into the silence. "How did he seduce Natasha?"

"I didn't," Maglor replied. "She seduced me."

Boromir looked back at the television and sighed. Emrys and Miriel were doing… something on the lawn of Parliament Square. He hoped it was just kissing.

"I'm going to have to clear this up, aren't I?" he said long sufferingly.

"Probably," Tony said, then passed Boromir what looked like a beer. "Doesn't mean you have to do it sober, though."

Boromir drink it and looked puzzled. "It tastes like being hit in the face with a gold brick wrapped in a lemon," he muttered, and continued drinking.

He collapsed a few moments later.

"Note to self," Tony said, observing the comatose Boromir and writing a memo as he spoke. "Must… get… Nick… to… drink… Pangalactic Gargle blaster…"

Emrys and Miriel stumbled in.

"I think we lost the police when I enchanted the statue of Boudicca to do the Macarena routine," Emrys said. Then he looked at Boromir. "He's unconscious," he said.

"We could put him to bed," Miriel suggested half hearted

"Nah, unconscious is fair game," Emrys replied with an evil grin.

"Strip him to his underwear and tie him to the flagpole on Buckingham Palace?" Tony suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Emrys agreed cheerfully.

Miriel shrugged, looking mildly amused.

"Cool, I'll get my armour," Tony said, then paused. "You're gonna have to sober me up. Pepper had JARVIS install anti-drink flying software after that time with the Italian Ambassador's wife, the five Doombots, the Russian Ambassador's husky, the New York branch of Victoria's Secret and a Hugh Hefner themed orgy. I only really remember waking up in the middle of a giant floating party on the US Fifth Fleet."

"A party on a ship _in_ the US Fifth Fleet?" Emrys asked, looking for clarification.

"No, the entire fleet was involved," Tony said. "I think I totalled five of Destroyers, three Frigates and an Aircraft carrier."

"How?" Emrys asked, sobering him up with a spell.

"We were playing bumper cars," Tony replied, grabbing his briefcase suit. "Come on. Let's get Mr Tall and Hairy down to his briefs."

**The next morning:**

Kingsley sighed. "Well?" he asked a smug Maglor and Tony, who looked like the best of friends. That thought terrified Kingsley, as it would any normal person.

The others fell into one of four categories.

The tired – Aragorn and Faramir.

The queasy looking –Doctor Banner, Ron, Harry, Sirius and Spike.

The amused – Thor, Emrys, and the girls.

And finally, the still thankfully asleep Boromir. He had been retrieved at dawn by Thor. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Maglor smirked, and looked around the room, winking at his conquests. All four of them were of the – probably correct - opinion that they had been the ones who had seen, came and conquered. In that order. They raised solitary eyebrows at him, then winked back.

"What can we say?" he asked, then looked at Tony. "Great night?" he asked casually.

"Great night," Tony agreed. "Out of all my nights of partying and debauchery, out of all my trademarked Stark Nights, this is the Starkest Night of them all."

**Crazy? Certainly. Funny? Please tell me if you think so or not.**

**Oh, and on a serious note, I am shipping Boromir/Andromeda.**


	5. Chapter 5: Bastard Sons of Rohan

**Bastard Sons of Rohan and Dunland**

**The title of this particular Snippet is taken from a chapter written by the awesome Zoop, who helped me in writing this, and this fic deals heavily in the Uruk-hai. Though I may not share her propensity for shipping Uruks with humans, I acknowledge that a decent Uruk, one that defies the rule of behaviour, is not impossible. **

**Any black speech names are of dubious provenance (I used a dictionary). There is more than one word for star.**

**Emrys, Eirian and this particularly talkative Uruk are mine. No one else.**

**Be warned, this particular ficlet is genuinely quite dark.**

Harry looked at the prisoners. One in particular was unsettling him. The way it looked at him… it wasn't like most orcs or Uruks he had encountered. They looked at him like an animal would. As either prey to be hunted or as a predator and a threat. This one… it's expression was almost sad. Like it was asking, 'why?'

He turned to look at Emrys. "You ever think about where orcs and Uruk's came from?"

Emrys glanced at Harry. His gaze had been fixed on the Uruks. Harry saw the shadow of it at the back of his eyes as he shifted focus to Harry, as if Harry was a temporary distraction from the sheer hatred he felt for the Uruks. "I know where Uruks come from. As for orcs… no idea."

"The sons of Elrond told me, several years ago now," Harry said, casting a sidelong glance at the Uruk. It was watching him, curious now. His gaze stayed on it. This one intrigued him "The first orcs were made by Morgoth. But not created. They were born as the first elves. They were as children, fully formed, but curious in exploring their new world. Morgoth snatched them from the starlit lands and waters of Cuivenien, the site of the awakening of the elves. He took them into his dark fortress," Harry said. "And he tortured them. He twisted them. He broke them. And from what shattered creatures remained he made the first orcs. They knew nothing but pain and cruelty, so pain and cruelty is what they dealt to those they were sent against."

"That's horrible," Emrys said quietly, and shivered.

"I pity them," Harry admitted. "Any mercy I had towards them died when I saw what they did to their captives, but I still pity them."

Emrys sneered. "Save your pity for the first orcs and their children. Their descendants are purely evil," he said.

"I have seen men do things that match and exceed the evil of the worst orc, Emrys. It was men that killed my parents, as it was men who killed yours," Harry reproved him. "Not orcs. Yet you don't hate all men."

"I used to hate every Rohirric man, woman and child," Emrys admitted. "Especially the men. For me, they were the ones that took my parents from I and my sister before their time." He looked at Harry. "Did you not hate the one who killed your parents?"

"At times, I did," Harry said. "But in the end… I pitied him. He never knew love. Not of any kind. He was cold and alone, and he constructed his own hell. He chose his path," Harry added, then gestured at the Uruks. "These did not. Saruman chose it for them."

"Monsters," Emrys said, spitting. He inclined his head slightly. "These, I will admit, were much like the orcs of the beginning, in that they were warped by Saruman, and they are more human than most orcs. Gruff, brutal and violent, but the show their humanity. They have no time for weakness, but I saw some men and Uruks share a twisted kind of friendship. A friendship of dark warriors." He growled. "But they are still bastards. My sister was only a week away from being forced to carry the child of one of their foul kin." As he said that, the banked fires of hatred rose in his eyes like a copper laced firestorm, green eyes blazing. Power rolled off him in waves as the white aura that surrounded him at the height of battle, betraying his inhuman heritage, began to pulse. Some of the Uruks, feeling uneasy at the naked threat being levelled at them, bared their teeth and snarled in defiance.

"Easy Emrys. They are our prisoners," Harry said.

"I'm still not sure why you wanted more than one for information," Emrys asked, voice laced with anger.

"Because one may not have the information we need. And they are bastards, Emrys. The bastard sons of Rohan and Dunland," Harry replied. "In a twisted way, your kin."

Emrys turned on Harry and snarled, "They. Are. Not. My. Kin!" His face had shifted. It was longer, sharper, and more dangerous.

"Your sister was a few months away from making you an uncle to one," Harry said, watching Emrys carefully. He was treading on very thin ice here.

"Which is why it is fortunate that you helped me rescue her," Emrys said coldly. "If she had borne one of their kind, I…"

"Would have done what?" Harry asked, voice soft, non-judgemental as his questions probed. "Killed it? Your sister's child?"

Emrys paused. "An Uruk child," he said flatly. But there was a hint of doubt in his voice.

"So you kill children? What if she loved it and raised it? How does that make you better than them?" Harry asked, tone that of someone investigating a scientific conjecture.

"Because…"

"Because you were born better than they are? You think they are born monsters?"

"Um, yes?"

"Based on what?"

"Based on… you're a fine one to talk. Your orc slaying tally is easily in six figures and you regularly ride in errantry with Elladan and Elrohir, who have made it their stated mission to exterminate every orc in Middle Earth. How do you think they would respond if they saw an orc child?" Emrys asked. Harry looked slightly troubled.

"They have… particular reason to hate," he said quietly. "The suffering their mother experienced at the hands of the orcs defies words. And they were the ones to find her. They let me see the memories after the first time I rode with them in errantry."

"The dark elf princes?" the Uruk suddenly asked. "You talk of the dark elf princes of the Northern valley?"

"Of Rivendell," Harry said slowly, "Yes."

The Uruk nodded. "I have seen them, from a distance," he said, revealing surprisingly cultured tones. Still rough, yes, but more like an average Rohirric man than an orc. "They slaughtered most of my company."

"I know," Harry said. "They sent Emrys and I after you. They suggested I teach Emrys the arts of orc hunting."

"I think I prefer your style to theirs," the Uruk said. He smiled. It was a smile full of fangs. "For one thing, we are still alive. If the dark princes had caught us, we would be dead by now." He paused, as Harry blinked, astonished at the concept of a talkative Uruk. A talkative Uruk making a _joke!_

"You would be if I had my way," Emrys grumbled.

The Uruk looked at him. "You are like them," he said bluntly. "I can smell the rage and pain rolling off you. You seek to slake your desire for vengeance with our blood." He glanced at Harry. "But you… with you it is nothing personal. With you, it is as it is between two warriors. One lives, one dies. There is no particular hatred for my kind. For the _snaga _orcs, now that is a different matter."

"You mean orcs like those out of Mordor and Moria," Harry said.

"Them," the Uruk said with a nod. "They fear you. We respect your power, for you showed yourself to be mightier than our master. And you proved it in combat." He smiled. "I hear you killed him."

"I did."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"No."

"Liar." The reply was calm, and simple. A flat statement that said, 'you know this is not true. I know this is not true. You know that I know that this not true. I know that you know that I know this is not true. Why keep up the pretense?'

"I did," Harry admitted. "But enjoying killing is –"

"What a warrior does, Ilkalzalnaburguul," the Uruk replied.

"What does that mean?" Emrys asked, a tad curious despite himself. "I recognise the words for in and shadow but not the other part."

"Starlight in the shadows," the Uruk replied. "You are not like other wizards. You are not like our master was, or the grey-bearded one he imprisoned and who returned to defeat him. Their forms are mere houses for their power. Your power suffuses your form. You shine like the stars, and you bring fire and light with you, terrible light. You come dressed in our colour, yet take it for your own. You stand wreathed in darkness, yet burn with an untempered fury. It is an appropriate name."

"That is your name for me," Harry said. "Could be worse."

"It is our name for you. We also call you by another name. Death's Master," the Uruk said.

Harry went white. "Where did you hear that name?" he whispered.

The Uruk shrugged. "It was common enough in Isengard. The _snaga _orcs told stories about you. They feared and hated us, so sought to frighten us."

"Harry?" Emrys asked.

"It was a title I earned in my world," Harry said slowly. "I possessed three items made by Namo himself. A wand, a stone that brings forth the spirits of the dead – or at least, copies of them. It's hard to tell. And a cloak. I only use the cloak, for it is an heirloom. I do not rule Death. I am _not _its master," he said, glowering at the Uruk.

"Why?"

"Because the cloak is an heirloom from my father's family, and the others are too tempting. The Elder Wand is hidden, and will stay that way," Harry said firmly. "The Deathstone… I cast it off, but it seems to have found its way back. I have hidden it in my vault at Gringotts."

"Items of power should not be hidden," the Uruk said. "Weapons are for using."

"Not in days of peace."

The Uruk snorted. "Peace. That short time between wars. War is always on the horizon, sorcerer. And if you aren't ready for it, one of my kind may take your head."

"I invite them to try," Harry said. "And they can go to whatever afterlife you lot have, saying that they met me and were incinerated."

"Or maybe, they may catch you off guard," the Uruk said, smirking slightly.

"Then my wife would kill them," Harry said, shrugging. "Besides, I've died twice. I have nothing to fear from death."

"And you wonder why we call you the Master of Death," the Uruk said dryly. His eyes flicked to Emrys and settled on him with a discomforting intensity. "And this young one has not yet answered why he thinks he is better than us."

"A monster that can talk is still a monster," Emrys snapped. "You eat your own kind, you rape and despoil ours, you delight in killing –"

"All sins that human warriors have committed. Cannibalism isn't something we enjoy, yet it is performed as a rare necessity," the Uruk replied. "You'll have to do better than that."

Emrys smiled. Or rather, he bared his teeth. "You cannot love."

The Uruk smiled back. "You know this for sure? In fairness, if you spoke of the _snaga_, then aside from the odd throwback, you would be right."

"Throwback?" Harry asked curiously. "Physically or emotionally?"

The Uruk nodded. "Emotionally, they are more common than you would think. And the child of the average _snaga _usuallylooks like an elf instead one of their kind when newborn. The _snaga… rectify _this over a period of weeks. This mostly serves to crush their gentler emotions and any resemblance to the elves, other than in the ears." He grimaced. "It is a kindness, in an odd way. Any _snaga _that shows signs of weakness is killed. I remember one that my former master took from its parents at birth as an experiment. She grew, tall, strong, kind and clean limbed. She even developed the glow that elves do, like a pathetic version of the one that your violent friend is emitting."

"What happened to her?"

"The Master got bored with her. What do you think happened? She was thrown to us," the Uruk asked bluntly. "I cut her throat within the first five seconds. It was a mercy. Not that the others noticed, they were so caught up in it all." He suddenly peered at Emrys, who looked thoroughly sickened.

"Ah… Now I see why that one hates so much," he breathed. "I knew there was something familiar about you. I remember your sister. Beautiful little thing, like a diamond in a shit pit. Course, all of us were drooling after her, but the slimy one took her for his own," he said casually. Emrys' eyes narrowed.

"Said that she was his personal whore – those exact words – and that she was going to be taken by him and him alone," the Uruk continued. "The Master let him, since she was just one girl in all the mass of breeders, so he came round twice a week for the next four years. She never stopped screaming and trying to fight him off, so eventually he started running a lottery. Whoever won had to help hold her down and got to cop a feel of her breasts and arse when he was done." He smiled unpleasantly. "Unsurprisingly, her being so pretty, this was popular."

Emrys let out an incoherent snarl and twitched violently. Then he growled, "Did you ever enter?" He was poised to strike, white aura blazing, swords in his hands.

Harry sat up slowly, face carefully blank.

"No," the Uruk said.

"He's telling the truth," Harry said after a moment.

"So the tales are true," the Uruk said. There was a hint of fear and awe in his voice. "You can read minds."

"And destroy them. It's really not that hard," Harry said calmly. "Why didn't you enter?"

"Two reasons. One, I had my own mate. Two, even if I'd been interested, the chances of winning were very low."

"I won, once," another Uruk grunted and leered. "She had great tits. Soft, yeah, but perky with just the right amount of bounce in them. And the arse, firm yet smooth. Tried to scream of course, but she barely had the energy to whisper when Wormy was done. I'd ride that one all night long."

There was a blur and a sudden explosion of gore. Emrys had torn the offending Uruk in half with his bare hands, and he was growling softly, the halves hanging limply from his hands. "Anyone _else_ want to talk about my sister's tits like that?" he asked.

There was a sullen silence from the rest of the Uruks, while the one that had talked chuckled softly. "Madhagmarr never knew when to keep his mouth shut," he muttered, as Emrys hurled the halves at the others, which made defiant sounds, snarled at them, then exited the containment area. "Your sister was all he would talk about for months at a time. I nearly knifed him to shut him up."

"Speaking of the Worm, I heard what she did to him," the Uruk continued. "We ran across him a few weeks back. We laughed at him of course and took the opportunity to take a few chunks out of him and make him scream. It's really very satisfying."

Emrys hummed his agreement before glowering. He was still covered in Uruk blood.

"He's the real monster. We, I and my kind, we have impulses, instincts that drive us to ravage and kill. The Master made them even stronger," the Uruk continued. "We didn't really have a choice." He looked at the other Uruk's, and he sounded slightly sad. "Some went so far into the abyss that they can't come back." He looked back at Harry and Emrys. "But you, your kind… you have the gift of choice. He chose to be evil. We didn't."

"You said you had a mate," Emrys said.

"I did, a woman taken as a breeder. I was strong, stronger than most, so the Master didn't mind if I took one for my own. And I loved her very much, despite what you think about my kind," the Uruk said.

"What happened?" Emrys asked.

"She drowned when the Black Tower fell to the trees that walked," the Uruk said shortly. "Along with our baby," he sighed. He sounded, to Harry's experienced, like he was hurting but desperately trying to hid it.

"You have my sympathy," he said quietly.

"And mine," Emrys said after a very long moment.

"You are different to the rest of them," Harry noted.

"What of it?" the Uruk asked.

"What would you do if we released you and sent you somewhere where you wouldn't run into the twins?" Harry asked.

The Uruk said nothing. He was clearly deep in thought. "I would make a life for myself. Maybe find a steading that would accept me. After all, I do look more human than most of my kind," he said. "Maybe take another mate."

"A peaceful life?" Harry pressed.

The Uruk nodded. "The joy of battle is great, but the price is even greater," he said quietly. "I have had enough of fighting another's wars."

"Coward," another Uruk sneered. The Uruk glanced at him and growled. The other Uruk subsided.

"You are not the only one who feels that way," Harry admitted. "I'm also sick of wars." He flicked his wand, levitating the Uruk free of the containment area. "I know a place that needs strong, young men. One that was relatively untouched by the war. Would that suit?"

The Uruk looked at him in some surprise. "You're sparing me?"

"There are not so many good men in this world – of any breed – that we can afford to lose one," Harry said. "I was taught long ago that it is choices, not our blood, that defines. Maybe it is a lesson that I need to relearn."

The Uruk's eyes widened, then he looked at Emrys, who shrugged. "He has a point," the younger man muttered. "Just one question. Did you ever take a woman against her will?"

"No. Nor a man."

Emrys glanced at Harry.

"He's telling the truth," Harry said.

Emrys stood, and reached out a hand. He looked the Uruk in the eyes. "Good luck," he said quietly.

The Uruk smiled slightly. "Thank you."

"Do any of you want this chance?" Harry asked the other Uruk's.

They all glared and growled defiantly.

"Are you sure?"

"We are Uruk-hai! We are creatures of war, not peace," another spat.

"You don't have to be," Harry said. "You're not the only ones raised for war. That doesn't have to be your path."

"It is our path," the same Uruk snarled. "Kill us and have done with it."

Harry sighed. "Very well. Emrys. Kill."

The Uruks fought valiantly. One of them even managed to give Emrys a black eye. But the fight was brief, in the end. Brief and brutal.

The Uruk sighed. "Fools," he said as Emrys stalked out of the body part strewn containment area.

"Do you have a name?"

"Virdraut," the Uruk answered, and grimaced. "Starlight. My mother gave it to me." He sounded vaguely embarrassed.

"I've heard of worse," Harry murmured, then grabbed Virdraut's shoulder. "Just to warn you, this will feel horrible, but it won't actually kill you. Emrys, clean this up, then go back to Rivendell. Tell the twins all the Uruks are dead. I'll meet you later."

"I'm alive," Virdraut reminded him.

"You can choose. In my book, that makes you human," Harry replied.

He apparated away with Virdraut. Emrys sighed, and began to clean up the blood, guts and other detritus. "Thank Eru for vanishing spells," he muttered.

Once he was done, he returned to Rivendell, cleaned up, and promptly fell asleep.

The next day, he stood on the balcony in Rivendell, deep in thought.

"Emrys!" a voice said, and he turned. One of the twins was walking over to him and smiling. "How did the orc hunting go?"

"Harry took prisoners. One of them – these were Isengard Uruk-Hai – made a lewd comment about my sisters breasts, so I tore him in half with my bare hands," Emrys said, shrugging. "I'm sorry, which one are you?"

The elf chuckled.

"I am Elladan. How did it feel?" he asked.

"Good and bad. Good because it was cathartic. It was a release to be able to destroy the creatures that hurt my sister," Emrys said. "But bad because… it reminded me of that time. It reminded me that I was only a week away from having a sister who was pregnant with a part orc child."

Elladan rested a hand on his shoulder. "It was the same for us at first," he admitted. "But soon the good outweighs the bad."

"With ordinary orcs, I can understand," Emrys said. "They're evil, through and through. But the Uruk-Hai… we met one that was more man the Uruk. He was clever, articulate and not overly aggressive. He had ethics. He even loved." He sighed. "It just makes me wonder: how many have I slaughtered who could have been different. Harry pointed something out to me: the Uruk-hai are the bastard sons of Rohan and Dunland. They are, in a twisted fashion, my kin."

"Again, I understand," Elladan said softly. "The orcs were once elves, did you know that?"

"Harry told me."

"Yes. He would have told you how they were made," Elladan said, glancing at Emrys, who nodded. "They are our kin. But when I see an orc… I just want to kill it," he said, voice shifting to a snarl. "To destroy it."

"Ever since your…"

"Since my mother? To an extent. But it existed before. Gandalf suggested that it might be the elven ability to sense the _fea _of another elf sensing the shattered, twisted _fea _of the orc and wanting to be merciful and grant it the peace of death," Elladan said. "I pity orcs. But I also hate them." He looked at Emrys. "You say there was one Uruk that was more man than orc," he said thoughtfully. "I do not deny that it is possible, one Uruk that appeared to be of orc stock but had more human in him. You know the breed better than I, so you would know if it is possible."

Emrys nodded. "It is. I'm wondering, though, whether Virdraut – that was his name – was the exception, or just one of hundreds of Uruks who could have been different."

"I suspect we shall never know," Elladan said.

"Hmm," Emrys said. "He and Harry put a couple of interesting questions. If my sister had had a half orc child, would I have killed it? Even if she had loved it as her own?" He shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't. And if I would, how am I any better?" He looked at Elladan. "Have you ever killed an orc child?"

Elladan was silent for a very long time. "I do not know," he finally said. "Such battles are fraught, and on horseback, a little one of any kind could easily be trampled underfoot."

"Have you ever seen one? I mean, a newborn?" Emrys asked.

"No. Why?"

"Virdraut said that a newborn orc looks like an elf and only becomes orcish by orcish treatment. And that Saruman did an experiment, raising a child away from her orc parents. Apparently she basically became an elf," Emrys said.

Elladan stared at him in outright shock. "That must be a lie," he whispered.

"No one can lie to Harry, not if he doesn't want them to," Emrys pointed out. "Apparently she basically was an elf until Saruman got bored and had her thrown to the orcs and Uruks. Virdraut slit her throat. A mercy, he said. Considering what happened in those dungeons, I am inclined to agree." He gulped. "My sister was…"

Elladan slipped an arm around the young man's shoulder in comfort. This he understood, reeling as he was from revelation after revelation. "Calm, Emrys. Speak it in your own time," he said gently.

Emrys nodded, lapsing into silence. "Wormtongue adopted her as his personal whore," he said bluntly. "According to Virdraut, those were his exact words. When he had difficulty holding her down, he started running a lottery among the orcs and Uruk-Hai. Any that won held her down while he… while he… while he _hurt _her," Emrys said with some difficulty, crying slightly. It was sometimes quite hard to remember that he was only sixteen years old, Elladan mused, comforting the boy. "And in exchange they got to touch her." He looked up at Elladan. "The Uruk that I tore in half, he'd won the lottery."

"Oh Eru," Elladan said, as the boy broke down in tears. He remembered the simultaneous exultation and agony he'd felt when he and his brother had found the orcs that had so hurt their mother. And they had been elves with millennia of life behind them, with other family. Emrys was a boy, only sixteen years of age, with no other family in all the world.

"Elladan?" Ginny said, once again displaying her uncanny ability to tell he and his brother apart. Apparently she'd had practice with her own brothers, before one had lost his ear and the other had died. "What's wrong?"

"Emrys went orc hunting with Harry," Elladan said. "They were Isengard Uruk-Hai, one of which had… touched his sister. Emrys killed it, but it brought back some unpleasant memories."

"Oh no," Ginny said, walking over and gently gathering Emrys in a hug. Though he was a good few inches taller than her, he relaxed into her gentle embrace. She gently hushed him and rocked him slightly from side to side, and Elladan was suddenly struck by the thought that she would make an excellent mother to some very lucky child, some day in the future. She looked at him. "Elladan, call your brother, Lord Glorfindel, your father and Harry. I heard some of what you were talking about, and we need to discuss this immediately."

Elladan nodded and did as she asked, glancing back to see her gently run a hand through Emrys' hair as his sobs were reduced to hiccoughs. He smiled slightly. Definitely a mother.

"So," Harry said. "Virdraut, before I dropped him off, pinpointed several locations where some Uruks have taken captured women. They're seeking to build up their numbers in secret, apparently."

Emrys looked up. He'd composed himself, but his eyes were still red. His face had the same hard, blazing look Ginny's got when she was particularly worked up about something. "It's this simple," he growled. "If the Uruks we find have the same gift as Virdraut, they'll be spared and relocated. Every other adult will be slaughtered. Every child…"

"I'm sure we could set up a few settlements where they would be raised," Elrond said. "If they have this gift you both speak of, then they may live. If not, they will be killed quickly and mercifully."

"And about the newborn orcs?" Harry asked, clearly excited. "Elrond, we could have hundreds of new elves on our hands, thousands! Maybe the time of the elves is not over! Maybe it's beginning anew!"

"It feels cruel," Ginny said quietly. "Taking them from their parents. I know it's for the best, but it feels wrong."

"Ginny, such is the nature of all great decisions," Elrond said gently. "Think on it: would they be happier as elves or orcs?"

"This Virdraut also talked about 'emotional throwbacks'. Some that survived the culling nature of their culture," Glorfindel put in. "What about them? What if they are parents?"

"Then they will be given Virdraut's choice. They will be watched in how they raise their child," Elrond decreed. "But otherwise left alone."

Harry stood up. "Then what are we waiting for?" he said, grinning savagely. "Let's go hunt some orc."

**Okay, that one was definitely different. To clarify my theory, I reckon that since the elves of the beginning were, mentally at least, newborn, I reckon that newborn orcs would essentially be elves, who need to be twisted. Some might point out the goblin child that Gollum kills in 'the Hobbit' in answer, to which I would say that there is a large difference between 'newborn' and 'child'. **

**As for what's going to happen to these elves, you have to remember that only ones that are very young wouldn't be 'orcish', so finding them and taking them is going to be very hard. But I think Harry and Emrys would both agree that it was worth it, even if they only saved one. Any that are saved will probably go to Ithilien for the next couple of centuries, before (maybe) sailing with the rest.**


End file.
